


Take A Breath

by Delicate_Doll



Category: Hiveswap, Homestuck
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Panic Attacks, Quadrant Confusion, Quadrant Vacillation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:18:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15975944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delicate_Doll/pseuds/Delicate_Doll
Summary: Growing up, told in three very similar, yet very different events.





	Take A Breath

Take a breath. In for three, out for seven. Good job, do another one. In for three, out for seven. Okay, just a few more sets and you’ll be okay. Your name is Tagora Gorjek, and that could have been bad, had you not taken a short recess from your case. Well, not your case exactly, you’d just been observing but still, and - well there hadn’t actually been a recess called you just sort of ran out. Nevertheless, you’re glad you did, without being followed too, which was always nice. Things got intense faster than you thought they would in such a civil setting

All legislacerators in training were required a certain number of hours in observance of other cases, as a way to become experienced with a courtroom and its workings without someone's life in your claws. It was the highlight of absolutely no one’s day, but it had to be done and you. Well, you may or may not have put all of it off till the end of the semester, giving you the 15-hour crawl you were currently in.

Misdemeanors and useless quadrant bullshit had started to blur together in your head, one after the other after the other, it was all the same. A highblood, usually a blue with this _air_ about them would have a complaint about something, someone, whatever, the two representing legislacerators would square off, taking turns saying precisely nothing (nothing took almost a half hour to preach, _apparently)_ , and the verdict of course. You knew it was a contamination, and yet. And yet what. Something about it just hadn't clicked maybe, not in the way that mattered.

You haven't paid much mind when the purple had entered, n- that was a lie you minded the hell out of him, rest of the audience being your own color but thats fine, thats fine he can do whatever wants. You hadn't ever really thought observing a - sort of boring- case would be it but to each their own right? Your click hadnt yet clicked, and. Well the courtroom now had an in-house subjugulaor, what else was there to say? You, and only you had been surprised when he got up and did his fucking job. And you, being the strapping young man that you are, bolted to the bathroom and started having such a - such a _fit_ over it. What a loser

No, no none of that. Learning hurts, and you were learning. You got it, your click had clicked, and it sucked. This sucked.

Y’know , it's incredibly odd that you haven't seen this before actually. You’ve been in schoolfeeding maybe a sweep? Was it a sweep now? Damn. And yet never seen- seen- it was almost silly! You were being silly. No, no you were _behind_ , and that was unacceptable. Time to pull it together Gorjek.

…

Is it cold in here? It's sort of cold everywhere, you guess- but now that you're (sort of) pulling it together, you realize your hands are shaking. That’s. That's something huh? Your rump is firmly planted on tile, that could be it. Tile gets cold. Tiles in ablutionblocks get notoriously cold, and you're sitting under a vent or something, that could cause it. Its gotta be...god _dammit_ you don't even really care about - about. About the _lowblood_ that got subjugulated - he lost, and paid the price- **_that's it_** \- why are you so hung up on it?

 ~~Trembling~~  Shaking or not, you need to get back out there. Maybe to a list- lists are calming right?

1.Get your face under control  
Something wet is on you, and you think it's most likely tears but...you were in the first row, and with how much splatter got on the offensive legislacerator, whom you were maybe five feet away from, all bets are off. You find a tissue in your bookbag, spit on it, and scrub at your eyes and cheeks. You don’t look as you toss it, be it stained teal or stained yellow- who cares. Not you.  
2\. You’re rumpled as hell, fix it  
Dry heaving wasn't designed for those trying to keep their button up crisp, and after 30 seconds you realize it's a lost cause. Sigh.  
3\. Hair check  
You run your hand through it, once, and done. _That_ can at least be counted on to keep itself in check.  
4\. Go back out there  
Okay. On to the hard stuff already? Wow. That’s fine that’s fine just- wow. One more deep breath , and you grip the handle. One more maybe.

Roughly fifty breaths later you actually manage to come out, head not as high as you’d like, shoulders not as poised , but it’ll do. You can make it through your last hour, and the walk home, god help you if anyone should try and speak to you in between but you could even handle that, _that’s how okay you are_. You still hope no one will though.

In quite possibly your first lucky stroke of the day, no one does. No one even really noticed you’d been gone, and that’s- that’s also lucky. Lucky night all around, you’ve decided.

Later , when you’re home and your lusis is wrapped around you like a security scarf, you try looking up exactly what the hell happened. The phrase you keep finding, website after website, is ‘panic attack’.

You, at the tender age of 5 sweeps, decide that's the stupidest thing you've ever read, and your - fit earlier, was most certainly not from panic. Fuck that.

 

✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱

 

Winning tasted like peppermint. A very simple fact of life, very sharp, and very clear. You _love_ peppermint. In court , you’ve done it exactly three times, but you’ve had _four cases_. That’s winning. As soon as you turned six you became allowed to take them on, and you’ve never really had much energy monday evenings but you bolt to the signup board each week. Once you have 15 successes you'll be able to collect your own, as many as you’d like a term and - you’re gunning for it, excited ramblings aside.  
Only- hold on. Something's not right. You’d been chatting with Tyzias -er- at her really, on the way out of class only to find you cant really get out, as the doors blocked by a crowd. A big crowd, you’d have to be crazy to work your way in, still waiting on your growth spurt and maybe 100 pounds soaking wet, but you try and step back to find its not really a choice anymore.

You don’t really know who, someone in your class surly, but they bulldoze you. Just a stong knock on your shoulder as they pass is all it takes, and suddenly you’re stumbling into the herd.

The main hallway is always crowded, and you’ve more or less become accustomed to dodging and weaving through, but this is. You’re. No , no this is bad trolls are knocking you around, they’re all around someone’s squished against your back and you’re face is on someone's shoulder- who are they? Do you know them you don’t know them who are they- you can taste some other trolls cologne and -

“Tagora?”

Who said your name. You just heard your name over the noise in the crowd and in your head, you _know_ you did, and it makes you freeze. Freeze in relative term, it's extremely hard to stop moving in a crowd, but your legs don’t take another (intentional) step. Not stumbling about - you can pinpoint what’s wrong with you. You can’t breathe. It’s why you’re lightheaded , why your stomach feels like- like- like how it is why- why you can’t. Can’t.

Take a breath Gorjek, before you swoon in public like a nitwit.

Except- except its not working. Your breathing you know you are you can feel it, your chests moving but your lungs are burning - what’s wrong with you. What’s wrong with you why can’t you breathe what kind of idiot doesn't know how to breathe-

Someone grabs you, not like the other trolls passing by- in your personal bubble and all over but - but actually _grabs_ your arm and _pulls_ you by it. That’s fine - you guess. Things are fine you’re being dragged through the grand hall, against the crowd. It's unpleasant and maybe? Making things worse? But all of the sudden you’re out of the mass, it’s so much better and yet you still can’t find a breath. Or. its quieter now, you can hear it. You can hear yourself breathing. A ** _lot_**. Holy shit you have to slow down that’s just as bad isn’t it? But you can’t. You can stop because you’re just stupid like that, not even able to breathe right on your own without someone there to hold your-

Your hand. You’d forgotten someone was holding your hand and- Jesus fucking Christ it’s Tyzias that’s- well not a stranger and that’s something but it doesn’t make your stomach stop rolling - nor the room stop spinning.

“Tagora? Dude are- holy shit man breathe- _jeez_ you looked like you were losing your mind so i just thought I’d-” She sure is talking. She - she’s trying to help that much gets through, her face almost looking a little concerned, but everything else screaming confused. It stirs up yet _another_ complex emotion in you, but before you can think on it it hits you.

Tyzias Entykk is not your friend. You’ve never thought so, no matter how many times you two pair up for a project, no matter how many times you partake in the delicate dance of small talk, not for a second. If she gets to far into your personal bubble you have some choice words pre-loaded for her, and if you, for whatever reason fall behind she’ll drop you in a heartbeat. It’s no secret.

Who does she think she is? Is this for - for a thank you or some sort of favor later? You don't do debt, its pitiful in all the wrong ways in others you won't  _let_ yourself get in debt to  _her_ of all people. You won't. 

“Get off me _Entykk_ , I don’t recall asking for your help” you snap, voice. Pretty level actually, considering just how little air you're working with. Throwing all of what you have left into your bark, you yank your arm back and hiss. “Some of us know better than to grab what isn’t ours , or need you be dropped back a few levels? Mind your own damn business next time.” And just like that, you’re walking off, head high.

Your chest still aches- your head pounds as soon as you lower it (safely around a corner and out of sight) , and you desperately need to find somewhere to be alone for a while while you wait this out. You find your oasis in one of the back courtrooms, shut down for renovations. Your mouth tastes like curdled yogurt as you slide down the heavy wooden door. You pull your knees to your chest, and for approximately 15 minutes just let yourself ride the wave. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay- if you could just fucking _breathe_

✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱✱

You’ve just turned 7, and already you’re a little tired of this routine. More than a little- you’re so over it. Yet- here you are, again. The worst parts over, your throat hurts and your eyes sting but you can breathe. There is no peppermint in your mouth, but you know you’ve won yet again regardless, you just know…. It happened in the bookhive this time, for- you don’t even recall, now that the storms more or less passed. God you’re pathetic. You just remember a deadline tomorrow, you remember working on something for the said deadline- and then just. Panic. The how and the why don't matter you suppose. Just the _now_.

Alright. So take the now in why don’t you? You’re sandwiched in between one of the back bookshelves and the wall, small little crevice turned sanctuary. It’s kind of a gross sanctuary, your breaths (ragged, still a little short but that’s okay) half dust, half oxygen, but the little space served you well. Its calm and quiet, no one’s even been back here in the- 20 minutes? Lower? 15? Your perception isn't what it should be in these moments, have to work on that. Wonder what section you’re even in- tucked away like a side thought.

You just have to keep yourself calm for another 10 minutes or so- and then you can go back out, collect your things, and go home. 10 more minutes. You've learned that's what it takes for you to actually settle, once the actual attacks over there’s a small window of time where almost anything is likely to start you off all over again, so universe permitting you’ll just stay here- breathing and -

“Tagora?”

You make a mental note to never assume you’ll get a break, _ever_. The universe has it out for you and you specifically, because of course it’d send _him_.

Galekh Xigisi is easily the worst person for you to be around right now. Around him you need your 100%, you control every encounter with him as much as possible, and the few chance encounters you’ve had have been disasters. Everything’s still new and tentative and delicate and - and - and your going to lose it in front of him and you’ll wreck _everything_ , the complex dance of _perigrees_ completely going to waste.

Actually. Hold on- you’re not ruined yet. You can just barely see him through the books, and there’s no way he knows how to just be quiet for long stretches of time, so you doubt he followed when you first came back… he can’t know you’re here. Like hell are going to alert him of the fact but-... why exactly is he looking for you? You didn’t have a meeting scheduled for tonight, next one at least a week away.

“Gor-gor… I was unaware you had a passion for binomial theorems. It certainly never seemed to be your ‘type’ before, though I will say I haven't seen you read much other than a textbook. Fault on me, and if this truly is your section I’d be more than delighted to show you a few things on the subject. I’ve only just begun to dabble with it but I doubt a pair of fresh eyes could do you any harm, as it’s a complex topic for those with limited patience such as yourself. Not that I’m saying you’re- just- mathematically minded isn't something that springs to mind when thinking of you. “

He’s literally talking to a hallway. Someone passing would think he’s- what the actual fuck does he think he's doing. He doesn't see you, you can't see a whole lot from your low point but he’s poking his head around different aisles,eyes darting to the different shelves and pieces of the wall. Your spot wasn't meant for heavy investigation, but somehow, he doesn't seem to notice. He keeps talking though. You don’t know why.

“I understand our next meeting is not scheduled for several more days but You'll forgive me, won't you?  _Apparently_ this particular bookhive has managed to snag a first edition of a series I was following, if you recall a few months ago I expressed my interest to you on the subject, and I’d very much like to collect it from them. Checkout is necessary here, this establishment actually has enough backing I can't just buy it from them- what a pain.” he explains, still looking about. You’re not what one would call ‘relaxed’ but. You can breathe. It's not a series he's following, its a _saga_ , with nearly two hundred books under it. He’s been so unnecessarily picky with them too, only touching first editions, on the path he's on he’ll never finish. It makes you smile a little. “You left not only your things out on one of the common tables, but the husktop I assumed was yours was also left unattended and open, really open, documents and everything. I’ll first begin by informing you I could very easily report you for not only having court documents on an unregistered device, left unsecured but consider this your warning. Secondly, that’s an extremely good way to get things stolen Tagora, don't let it become habit.”

He just. He's just talking, listing things off. What a prat. Around number five he sit down , back resting on the shelf you’re tucked behind. It scoots the thing a inch tighter, but that’s fine. Just means he really doesn’t know where you are exactly, and when he leaves you’ll slip out like nothing, and you’re small. Its cramped, sure, but that’s fine. Have to just stay quiet and small, and it’ll be fine.

It’s sort nice. He just keeps talking, sort of like normal but- it’s just nice. He’s an awful prick with too much to say and the awful idea that others have to listen, he reminds you of your height every chance he gets casually as possible so you can’t call him on it and he gets this face when you get cornered in an argument and an even better one when _you_ corner _him_ and-...yeah

“Tagora?” he asks quietly as he stands. It’s been a while, just him talking into air. Even the infamous chatterbox has a limit. Pity, you were, you … you were enjoying yourself. “Come on now, you have to be cramped.” Through the little hole you wedged yourself through to get back here, he offers a hand out. Must’ve made some kind noise then- damn it.

…. It’s not going away. You stare, and it stays. You don’t really know what to- you’re fairly sure you’ve smothered the two of you in ink- but its still- sometimes you feel like… it's complicated. What he just did though was _not_ black. You’re not sure if you mind. You take a breath, then take his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> First published work- let me know what y'all think okay? This goblin boy's very near and dear to my heart, even if it may not seem like it, as i have him having a pretty rough time in here. Maybe something better is on the way.


End file.
